


Missing Moments (4x09 Dark Waters)

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s04e09 Dark Waters, F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5407415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Olicity scenes from episode 4x09 "Dark Waters," as well as alternate scenes (because we deserve them, damn it).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Look Good

His hand slid up her back, fingers slipping over the zipper he’d had a hard time keeping his eye off since the second she’d walked downstairs. She was so gorgeous, shining with more light than anything around her, and she’d taken his breath away.

And made his mouth go dry.

Because _that dress…_  

A beautiful tiny grin slipped over her lips as she turned into his embrace, looking up at him with a quiet, “You doing good?” on her lips before he leaned down.

Felicity lifted her hand, her fingers sliding over the lapel of his jacket as his cheek brushed over hers, his hand gripping her closer, the delicate mixture of _her_ and her perfume filling him.

“You look good,” he whispered, his lips moving against her skin and he felt her smiling.  


“Just good, huh?”  


“Very good,” he amended, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek - it’d become their thing, the little moments they stole with each other in public, when a soft kiss on the cheek was surrounded by words meant for only them. “Like I want to see what’s under that zipper good.”

Felicity giggled under her breath and gave him a, “Hmm, well…” She kissed his cheek in return, lingering as she said, “If you play your cards right, you just might get to see.”

He chuckled.

“Although I do think you should know you have to use your teeth,” she added before pulling back, just as they both heard Diggle somewhere around them.  


Oliver barely managed to not cough at the vivid imagery her words brought to mind, his cheeks flushing slightly before he shut it down.

The Christmas - no, _Holiday_  party - was in full swing, it was so not the time, or place…

Until later. 

Later he’d pull her away, when he’d made his rounds, when he could steal five minutes for just him - and her - and then… then he’d _show her_  his appreciation of that amazing dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/134907173089/you-look-good-olicity-4x09-missing-moment)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	2. Just Them

(request by [@gordamental](http://gordamental.tumblr.com/))

The second they climbed into the limo, it hit them -  _all of it._

The shooting at the bay, the ring, the proposal talk, outing Darhk, the party, the hours he spent looking for her, the hours she spent in a cage, her confirming everything he already knew about her, so sure and confidant and _real_  despite being right under Darhk’s thumb - _god, he loved her so much_ \- and then the gas chamber - _the second she’d gone silent when the door had fallen shut, every inch of him had almost fallen apart right then, because he couldn’t lose her, not her, never her_  - the desperation and fear and horror and _love_ … and then he’d really proposed, and she’d really said yes.

It hit them, and when he pulled the door shut behind him, both of them settling in for a second, the sudden silence was _jarring_. 

They looked at each other, at the same time, both a little shell-shocked, but the instant their eyes met, it all melted away.

Because it was just them - it was always just them, forever, no matter what happened, no matter where their lives went next, it’d always be them, they’d always be _them_ \- and as he smiled softly, in awe and wonder, she grinned, an incredulous laugh slipping past her lips.

_Just them._

Oliver reached for her just as she launched herself into his arms, her hands finding his face to anchor to, to steady herself as he wrapped her in his embrace, his hands sliding over her ponytail, his fingers slipping through some of the strands, holding her just as tightly, their lips crashing together.

Felicity gasped as he moaned - _she was there, it was real, it was all real._

The kiss was hard, both of them grasping at the other, holding on as tightly as they dared, love and fear coming together in a quick lash of passion.

 _Powerful_.

 _Affirming_.

Just them, always them.

 _Forever_.

“Oh wow,” Felicity whispered, pulling back just enough to lick her lips, shaking her head. “Wow.”  


Oliver smiled. It was all he was capable of - he was speechless, in the best way possible. He held her closer, kissing her again, softly, _gently_ , before letting her go.

As the limo pulled away from the rally, slowly pulling out into traffic, they relinquished their holds and settled back, but they didn’t go far. She slid back into her seat, her hand finding his - her _left_  hand - and the instant he felt the warming metal under his finger, he wanted to grab her all over again.

It was just them, and it was perfect.

“I love you,” Oliver said softly and the grin she shot him in return made him feel like he was flying.  


Their fingers twisted together where they laid between them - they both felt the ring, felt the meaning of it, the significance of it.

There was so much to do, so much to talk about - the last several hours felt like a huge blur. 

So much had happened, so much _needed_  to happen…

But for now it was just them.

“I love you,” Felicity replied, leaning into him before her eyes dropped down to the ring. Her eyes widened slightly. “It looks even bigger in here.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/134908677224/just-them-olicity-4x09-missing-moment)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	3. Not Real

She was heavy.

That was all he could think, it was all he could feel: she was so heavy.

Oliver tried to pull her closer - she wasn’t moving, she wasn’t responding to him… she wasn’t giggling like she normally did when his fingers drifted over her ribs, or scooting up to settle in between his legs. He couldn’t wrap his arms around her middle, tugging her closer, or dig his face into her neck the way she liked because she wasn’t _moving._ She wasn’t doing _anything_ and he didn’t know _why_.

Why wasn’t she moving?

What could he do, what should he do, why wasn’t she moving?

Oliver blinked, staring down at her.   


He couldn’t breathe.  


He couldn’t move.

It was her, she was there… but she wasn’t moving.

Oliver blinked, the world zeroing in to one single thing: _her_.

But she wasn’t there.

She wasn’t moving.

His hands were wet.

Blood, there was blood.

Her coat was wet.

_It’s hers._

She was bleeding.

Oliver craned his head to see - she’d gotten hit, she was shot, she was bleeding.

He blinked.

 _Do something_.

Do what?

 _Move_.

She was so heavy.

Oliver tried to lift her, but she wasn’t _moving_.

The blood on his hands was so warm. It was sticky, his fingers sticking together, but slick at the same time; blood slid between his pinky and ring finger, the digits slipping against each other nauseatingly as more slid down his wrist, staining the white of his shirt.

His eyes flew to her face.

He shifted her, trying to get her to look up at him, but she was limp - she’d never been this heavy, why was she so heavy?

His fingers moved across her neck, drifting over her skin, smearing blood wherever he touched - _her blood_ \- as he tried to see her face.

Blood leaked from her lips.

Her eyes were closed.

She wasn’t breathing.

Why wasn’t she breathing?

She should be breathing, she should be _moving…_

What did he do?

His mind was blank, it was completely blank. He didn’t know what to do - he didn’t know how to move, how to breathe, how to act, how to _react_ … she wasn’t moving.

Should he move? Should he… what did he do?

Oliver stared at her, willing her to do something, anything, because there was nothing inside him, _nothing_. What did he do?

He looked up.

There was no one.

There was no one there to tell him what to do, no one to help him, no one to _save_ them.

_Her._

They were alone.

 _He_ was alone.

Oliver blinked, staring at the limo and then the street, the empty street.

He couldn’t… _do_ anything, why couldn’t he do anything, why wasn’t he…

“Felicity…” he tried to whisper, trying to pull her closer, but his lips were numb, and his arms felt _wrong_ , everything was _wrong_ ; they felt like they weren’t even connected to his body. How was he supposed to do anything if he couldn’t move?

She wasn’t moving.

She wasn’t breathing.

Oliver slowly shook his head, looking back at her. She was getting cold. He needed a… a blanket, or his jacket, he needed to get his jacket around her so she wasn’t cold anymore. Her chest wasn’t moving. She wasn’t moving. His fingers brushed over her jaw - his hand was covered in blood, and it was shaking, but he couldn’t feel it.

_It wasn’t real._

The thought slammed into his chest, sucking the air from his lungs.

It wasn’t real.

He was in a vacuum - he couldn’t hear or see or feel anything, he felt like he was _floating_ , not there, not there at all… because it wasn’t real. None of it was real.

He wasn’t there.

She wasn’t there.

It wasn’t real.

It _couldn’t_ be real.

Because they were supposed to make it home.

_Not real._

It wasn’t real.

The limo was supposed to pull up in front of their building and he was supposed to get out, giving her his hand for her to take. He was supposed to help her out and he was supposed to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into him, breathing her in, giving himself a second to _revel_. She was supposed to run her fingers through his hair, her lips brushing over the shell of his ear, promising so much more in that simple touch. They were supposed to go upstairs and he was supposed to ask if she was hungry, if she wanted him to cook her anything, but she wouldn’t answer, because she’d be pushing his jacket off, undoing his tie, her eyes on him. He wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her. They’d try to make it upstairs but the need would be too great and he’d undress her right there in the kitchen, and he’d lift her up on the counter, needing to feel her wrapped around him, needing to feel _her_ , and she’d whisper, over and over how much she loved him as he slowly removed every article of clothing until she wore nothing but his ring. He was supposed to tell her he loved her, how happy he was, how blessed, and then he was supposed to _show_ her…

Not… _this._

It wasn’t real.

Footsteps.

The brush of clothes.

The click of a gun.

Oliver blinked, the loft bleeding away… and he looked up.

He should feel something. He knew that, but he couldn’t. Because it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. The barrel in his face wasn’t real, Felicity dying in his arms wasn’t real, her blood wasn’t real, none of it was real…

_It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be, it wasn't… it wasn't…_

The Ghost stepped closer, and Oliver just stared at him, cradling Felicity in his arms…

And then the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He felt the natural instinct roaring through him the second he heard the Ghost’s finger tightening on the trigger, felt the preternatural awareness that Felicity was right there, that she was about to die, that a gun was pointed at _her_ , that he needed to _protect her_.

Oliver moved, twisting Felicity in his arms, moving so fast he barely felt the air moving around him as he shoved her underneath him, not understanding that she’d already been hit, that she was already bleeding out, that she was already getting cold… all he knew was that he had to protect her, save her, at any cost, at whatever cost, it didn’t matter.

He didn’t hear the other footsteps, or the sound of a boot scraping against metal, or the shouts, or the cocking of another gun.

All he heard was the rush of white noise in his head as he dove over Felicity, blanketing her with his body, just as the Ghost pulled the trigger.

A bullet slammed into his back, another skating over his shoulder, another across the back of his head before the rest of it rocketed into the concrete, spraying gravel in his face. He didn’t feel the bullet in him, or the blood coating the back of his head… all he felt was the gravel and that Felicity was right there and he curved himself around her, protecting her from it as much as he could.

He had to protect her.

He couldn’t lose her.

_He couldn’t lose her._

_Not her_.

The bullets rang out just before the Ghost went down and he vaguely saw a blur of blonde hair colliding with him before they both hit the ground.

More footsteps, more shouts, more sounds he couldn’t identify, but he barely heard any of them as he pulled back to look down at her.

She still wasn’t moving.

“Felicity,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead.

It was covered in blood.

He couldn’t move.

He just stared at her, willing her to open her eyes.

But she didn’t.

_She wasn’t moving._

And she was getting cold, so cold…

“Felicity,” he said, his voice cracking, a tear slipping from his eye, landing on her nose. She didn’t react, she didn’t do _anything_. He cupped her cheek, the blood leaking from her mouth cold against his palm as he slid his thumb across the pale skin under her eye - he smeared the blood that had splattered across her face. “Felicity…”

“Ollie!”

_Thea._

Her voice sliced through him like it was a jagged knife, jerking him back to reality with such a violent shove that he black spots danced over his vision - he’d been holding his breath, waiting for her to respond, just _waiting_ … but she hadn’t.

Oliver gasped, sucking in a quick breath that slid into his lungs like sand. He coughed, tears blurring his vision - no, no, he had to _see_ her. The violent shaking shook her and he gasped for air, stopping it desperately, not wanting to move her.

To hurt her.

Thea was there… where was she?

Felicity still wasn’t moving.

She wasn’t moving.

The reality of it started hitting him.

The panic grew in a violent thrum at the base of his spine, burning him from the inside out, spreading through him like wildfire.

She wasn’t moving.

_She wasn’t moving._

“Felicity,” he said, gripping her chin, shaking her. ”Felicity!”

“Oliver!”

_Diggle._

Oliver didn’t hear him running towards him, didn’t see his boots or when he dropped to his knees next to them. He didn’t feel Thea’s hands on his shoulders, trying to pull him away, her choked voice whispering, “Ollie, _move_.” He didn’t hear the sounds of fighting as Laurel incapacitated the Ghost.

He didn’t move.

He couldn’t move.

“Felicity,” he murmured, holding her tightly - too tightly. “Open your eyes, baby, please… please, open your eyes. Please… Felicity!”

“Oliver, get off her, man, let me look,” he heard Diggle saying, and he felt his hand on his shoulder, trying to push him out of the way, but he couldn’t move. “Oliver!”

He shook his head wildly, shaking her more.

She had to look at him, he had to see her eyes, she had to _wake up_.

“Oliver!” Diggle snapped and then he was being ripped away from her.

“No!” he shouted, scrabbling back for her but Thea was suddenly there, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling him back into her lap as Diggle instantly yanked Felicity’s jacket open, the buttons flying across the street as his hands moved to cover the raw wound in her side.

Shot.

She’d been shot.

“Felicity,” Oliver whispered, holding onto Thea’s arm as he moved back towards her, but she stopped him, her body straining to keep him still, pressing her face into his temple. He felt her tears \- they were hot, so hot, burning his skin - as she whispered, “Ollie, stop, stop,” over and over.

“Damn it,” Diggle breathed, his voice broken with his own tears as he ripped his jacket off to cover the wound before checking her pulse. “Call 911!”

Oliver vaguely heard the sound of a phone being dialed, Laurel’s voice telling them where they were. He barely felt Thea around him, or the drying blood on his hands, or the sound of his heart pounding so fast it was making him faint, making the world fade until all he saw was her.

He only had eyes for her.

She wasn’t moving.

_She wasn’t moving._

“Felicity,” Oliver whispered, shaking his head. “Felicity… no, please, no, no… please. Please!”

She wasn’t moving.

_“Felicity!”_

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/134935870079/not-real-olicity-4x09-missing-moment)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	4. Reclaiming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for [aubvi](http://aubvi.tumblr.com/) and [mogirl97](http://mogirl97.tumblr.com/), based on their conversation [here](https://twitter.com/queenofoldyork/status/675378605791289344)!

My take on what happens after this scene:

She didn’t have to look back to know that he was following her.

Her bare feet padded across the tiled floor, her brain still racing a hundred miles per hour - she knew the second she let herself calm down, let herself think about what had happened - what had _almost_ happened - that the fear and panic that’d been a living thing in her chest since the instant Darhk had walked into the party would take over and she’d lose it. And by lose it she meant she’d collapse and cry, or start shaking so badly she wouldn’t be able to stop, or just stop and stare as the gravity of what had almost happened finally hit her.

She knew that, which is why she knew they had to get going, they had to get to the ceremony Alex had set up as a way to balance the attack on the Bay, they had to go right then or else she might not make it.

Breaking down was for later.

It was so not later right now.

Felicity turned the light on in the bathroom and turned in the doorway, giving him a soft smile where he was a few paces behind her.

“Hey,” she said, craning her neck to look up at him as he stopped before her. 

She could see it in his eyes - he felt it too. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her since they’d gotten in the van to come back to the lair, and when he’d had to when she’d gone to her computers, knowing deep in her bones that Darhk was definitely not dead, his eyes had remained glued to her unless he absolutely had to look away.

He felt it too, and it was so much _heavier_ because of the whole proposal thing and her basically attacking him about it - that little smile of his when she’d confirmed what she’d already told him _years_ ago, that she knew what she was signing up for, and that she was all in. It wasn’t even a question, it was just a fact: this was their lives, end of story, and it was up to them to be together in it. 

She would’ve said yes had he asked - she would’ve said yes so fast it probably would’ve come out as more of a squeak before she would have leapt into his arms, knocking him over. She’d still say yes. If he asked her right then and there, or tomorrow, or three months, or three _years_ from then, she would say yes. 

Because she was in it, with him, through the light times and the dark times.

Like being shoved into a _gas chamber_ as he was forced to watch his loved ones suffocate.

A flit of panic hit her chest again, remembering the slight change in the air when the gas had started flowing into the chamber, the way her lungs had clamped down in self-preservation and fear, but she’d been too scared to do anything _but_ gasp for air as the realization that she was probably going to die set in, and then…

Felicity shoved it away.

They so didn’t have time.

The ceremony was waiting, and that was more important at the moment.

They would have time for them later. No, they’d _take_ the time later, because they’d more than deserved it.

But not right then.

“I’m just gonna swing a quick shower,” Felicity said, reaching up, letting her fingers graze his chin for a quick second, because she _needed_ to. She just needed to feel him.

He hadn’t been the only one who needed that reassurance.

She could do this on her own, get through what had happened because she always had. It was kind of par for the course when it came to working with the Green Arrow, but she didn’t want to, not by herself. She needed him just as much as he needed her. 

His eyes instantly closed and he leaned into her hand, his coming up to push hers closer. The feeling was coming back, the one she kept pushing off as she watched him…

She pushed it back down, smiling. “I’ll be quick.”

“Felicity…”

“I’m okay,” she said, nodding. He stared at her, and she reached up, cupping his face. “I’m okay. I’m more than okay, we’re both okay, and…” She paused, her mind flashing back to the instant the Ghosts had grabbed him and started dragging her to the chamber… his shouts, her screams as they’d… _No_. The feeling started growing in her chest again and she shoved it down. Not the time, so not the time. She smiled again - so much smiling, maybe if she kept smiling, they’d start feeling real. “I’ll be quick.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but then he changed his mind.

And then he nodded.

Felicity stepped back. “I won’t take that long because we…” But he wasn’t going. Oliver followed her in and the words died on her lips as he pushed her back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. “Oliver…”

“I can’t let you out of my sight right now, Felicity,” he said softly. He swallowed, blinking rapidly, taking a stuttered breath. “I just… I… can’t not _see_ you right now… I need…”

“Okay,” Felicity said, stepping into his space, her hands landing on his chest. She smiled - this one was real, quick and beautiful, and she saw the change in him when he recognized the difference too. She couldn’t get anything past him. “Okay.” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to hang out on the toilet while I shower then, because there might be an issue of humidity, and we both know what steam does to your hair.”

A breathy chuckle slipped past his lips as he stared at her. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding under her hands, and then he slowly shrugging his jacket off. 

Felicity bit her lip, watching as he haphazardly tossed it on the counter, his eyes never leaving hers as he yanked the hem of his sweater up and over his head.

Okay, so… he was going in with her.

Elation and hesitation slammed into her in equal parts, followed quickly by a harsh rush of _need_. It was visceral, starting deep in the pit of her stomach and spreading through her like acid. 

She watched him pull his t-shirt off next, leaving his chest naked, and her palms suddenly burned with the urge to touch him, to _feel_ him, to know he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that she wasn’t going anywhere, that they’d survived, that she’d _lived_.

Felicity let out a tiny gasp, her chest suddenly tightening and she closed her eyes.

No, no, they didn’t have _time_ for this.

“We’ll make time,” Oliver replied, his voice rough.

She looked up at him, her stomach clenching. 

God, she didn’t know what she was feeling anymore. _That_ feeling was back, the feeling that was a terrifying mixture of fear and happiness, need and anger, wonder and love. She didn’t _know_ what she felt, and… and it was scaring her, and she didn’t want to give in, not yet.

He saw it all.

“Hey,” Oliver whispered, stepping into her space. He cupped her face, angling her head back, his lips brushing over hers. “We’re okay.”

Tears burned her eyes and Felicity pinched her lips to keep them at bay, nodding against him, breathing him in.

Because she _could_ breathe him in, because he was there, and she was there, and…

“Hey, shh,” Oliver continued, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’re okay, you’re okay…”

“I know,” she replied. “I know, I’m just… I’m…” She slid her hands up his chest, her fingers skating over his muscle and scars, _feeling_ him. “I…”

“I know,” Oliver said, his voice cracking, his hands tightening. “I know, baby, I know…” 

“I just…” she started, the words faltering.

Oliver cut her off, his mouth slanting over hers; she instantly opened for him, giving him everything. He swallowed her little whimper, his fingers sliding into her hair, angling her so he could go deeper and she pushed her arms up around his neck, urging him closer. She gasped softly when he pressed the full length of his body against hers, slipping one arm to wrap around her waist, the other wrapping around her back to cup her neck before he picked her up off her feet, hugging her even closer.

It was just like when he’d pulled her out of the chamber, when he’d whispered, _“C’mere, baby,”_ right before she’d launched herself into his arms and he’d caught her, pulling her away from the gas…

Felicity kissed him harder, whimpering again - she suddenly felt the gas in her lungs again, hearing only the smack of Oliver’s hand on the glass, not able to hear his, ‘I love you,’ or touch him or anything, barely hearing her own whispered words, fear stealing her voice - and Oliver returned it with equal ardor, groaning. The rumble of it in his chest brought her back to him, grounding her.

She’d almost lost him… but he was there, and so was she, and they were okay.

 _They were okay_.

A sob slipped out before she could stop.

Oliver pulled back at the tiny sound, cradling her in his arms. “Shh… I got you, I have you.”

“I know, I know.” Felicity nodded, pushing her face against his, reveling in every little thing from his harsh breathing and dry lips, his rough stubble and flushed skin, the brush of his lashes on her cheek when he pressed a kiss to her jaw, the feel of his fingers gripping her tightly. “I know, I know… I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she repeated, nodding - why couldn’t she stop nodding? - as she hugged him closer.

After a long moment, he set her back down with a soft, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

She took a deep breath, blinking tears from her eyes before turning to the shower. She heard the sound of his zipper as she reached in and turned the water on, adjusting the temperature, focusing on breathing - that she _could_ breathe at all - before pulling back out when the water started running warm.

She reached down to pull the zipper on her dress up when Oliver appeared behind her, stilling her.

“Let me?” he asked, his voice almost getting lost in the sound of the water hitting the ceramic tile.

Felicity shivered, swaying towards him. “Okay.” 

Oliver gripped her hips, turning her around in his arms before he leaned down before her. She felt a random stab of panic, like she had earlier with his, “Can I ask you a question?” and she almost laughed. It would never cease to shock her how much could happen in such a short amount of time. 

He was still in his boxers as he settled before her, his hands sliding down her thighs, his fingers instantly finding the zipper, slowly puling it up.

His hand was shaking.

Felicity’s breath hitched, her heart clenching. She reached down, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other sliding into his hair. He sighed as she ran her fingers through the strands soothingly, dragging her nails over his scalp gently, settling further on the floor as he leaned into her. She accepted his weight, watching him as he unzipped her dress.

This wasn’t how she imagined their night going when she’d put the dress on. This wasn’t how she thought he’d be taking if off when she’d seen the way his eyes had darkened as she’d come down the stairs earlier. It wasn’t what she’d joked about when she’d whispered to him earlier at the party about him using his teeth…

But this…

It was better, somehow. It wasn’t anything sexual - it was intimate, loving. 

Reassuring.

Affirming.

As her dress fell open, Oliver leaned forward, pressing soft kisses to her exposed skin. His lips drifted over her, brushing over the thin lacy band of her panties, his short puffs of air leaving goosebumps in their wake. Her stomach clenched slightly, just like it always did when he touched her like this, but it wasn’t as _demanding_ as it usually was. It was more… _comforting_ , a reminder that she was here…

He finished unzipping as her chest started tightening again.

… that he was still able to do this to her…

“Oliver,” she whispered, his name coming out a jagged gasp.

He closed his eyes, leaning closer, slipping his hands under the remaining folds of the dress, holding it out of the way as he started peppering gentle kisses across her hip and up over her stomach. When he reached her center he paused, his chin brushing the top of her panties, pressing his lips to the delicate skin right beneath her belly button.

He took in a tremulous breath and let it out slowly, like he was taking a second, as if he was… _reveling_. 

The burn of more tears made her closer her eyes before they could fall and like he could feel her reaction, he slid his hands up, taking the dress up with him. He stayed close to her as he lifted himself up, kissing every inch of her the material revealed.

She felt like he was reclaiming her, taking back what had almost been taken away by the gas, by Darhk.

Felicity lifted her arms as he stood up and he pulled the dress over her head, letting it fall in a heap on the floor, neither caring what happened to it next because she was never, ever, _ever_ wearing it again. He kept his face pressed to hers, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she sighed at the sensation of his naked skin against hers.

They didn’t have time for this, they really didn’t, but god, she was so glad he didn’t care. Because she suddenly didn’t.

She needed this, more than she’d realized - she needed the last few hours _erased_ from her body, so there was nothing left but her again, of him.

He unhooked her bra, his fingers drifting down her naked back and she let it slide off to the floor before she pushed her panties down her hips. Oliver stepped back just enough to remove his boxers, his eyes never leaving hers as she removed her earrings, letting them fall to the floor - they were tainted too - and then she tugged her hair free of its bindings, dropping bobby pins all over the floor until it was all uncoiled, lying stiffly across her shoulders.

They didn’t waste a second.

Oliver pulled her into his arms again, kissing her reverently, wrapping her up as he pushed them backwards to the shower. He tugged the curtain open, urging her in before following, closing it tightly behind them and then…

It was just them.

He pushed her back under the spray, both of them flinching at the heat, but they didn’t move to adjust it. It wasn’t scalding, but it was hot, hot enough to turn their skin red, to burn away what had just happened. He moved slowly, gently pushing her back until her hair was in the water and he gently ran his fingers through the strands, his eyes on the task at hand, her eyes eventually slipping shut - it felt so good.

He needed this as much as she did and she didn’t fight him, she didn’t try to rush him. She let him take care of her, because he needed to, and because she needed him to. 

He went through the motions, carefully shampooing her hair, taking his time to make sure he massaged every bit of her scalp before he gently rinsed the suds out. Felicity hummed, melting more and more under his touch until she was completely pliant, going every which way he moved her. She leaned into him, her hands drifting over him lazily, his skin slick with remnant soap and the water. He did the conditioner next, letting it sit for a moment before he grabbed the soap. It wasn’t the fruity concoction she had at home, but this was almost better - the harsh, simple clean smell of the soap cut through the memory of the gas chamber better than anything she could have asked for as Oliver lathered her body.

He started with her shoulders and then her arms, moving his way down. 

He took his time, but he was efficient, making sure he got every inch he could reach until there wasn’t a spot left on her that wasn’t scrubbed clean.

He pushed her back under the spray, rinsing the soap away - rinsing the day away, his hands roving over her, making sure not one spot was missed.

She shivered when his hands slipped over her breasts, his palms brushing against her hardening nipples. His hands slipped lower, over the soft slope of her stomach, down… 

One hand slipped between her legs.

Felicity’s mouth fell open in a tiny pant, her head falling back, her nails digging into his shoulders as he pressed his fingers between her sensitive nether lips. He shuddered against her, leaning in until his lips were pressed to her forehead as he slid through her wetness. She didn’t realize how wet she was - how _tender_ \- until he was down there, touching her…

 _Oh god_ …

“Oliver,” she whispered, opening her eyes to look up at him. 

His lids were hooded, desire swirling in his eyes, the blue darkening, telling her he wanted her just as badly.

His fingers moved, finding her clit, making her jerk against him. He stared at her, watching her, _memorizing_ her, almost like he was afraid he’d never get to see her like this again. 

The realization slammed into her and she blinked, stunned.

Death was part of their lives. They lived and breathed it on a daily basis; it was a constant presence that was always lingering somewhere, whether it was in an injury or an innocent almost losing their life or one of them getting caught in the crossfire. But tonight had been different, because tonight was the first time since they’d gotten back - since they’d given them a go, since they’d become a _them_ \- that they’d faced death like this again. Tonight was the first night when her life had almost ended, when she had known how much he loved her, known how much she loved him.

God, she loved him, so much, and they’d had so much already, but she wanted _so much more_ , she was _ready_ for so much more. She wanted the entire thing - she wanted to get married, have babies, fight crime, run Fortune 500 companies, take care of the city, make it better… she wanted all of it, together.

 _Together_.

And they’d almost lost that, they’d almost lost everything.

Felicity stared at him, drinking him in, her nerves shooting to life in a way she’d never felt before. Need crashed through her, sweeping her away, narrowing everything down to this moment, to this second, to when it was just her, just him, and they were there, _alive_.

“Felicity,” he gasped, his fingers stilling, his face crumpling with the same realization.

It’d been so close…

But they’d survived.

 _They’d survived_.

Felicity barely had the chance to nod before he grabbed her, yanking her against him, his lips finding hers just as she shoved herself against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hauling herself closer as he picked her up and shoved her up against the wall.

The wall was ice cold and slick, making her gasp as he pushed her up against it, but he drank it in, taking it inside him, taking everything she had and she gave it to him, just as readily as he bared everything for her.

The water beat down on them as they kissed, their groans getting lost in the other as he reached down and grabbed her legs, pulling her up, spreading her… but his elbow slammed into the wall, making him curse, and then her knee hit the curtain, opening it, letting in a shocking burst of cold air.

Felicity gasped his name as he moaned hers, barely deterred. Oliver picked her up, pushing her into the corner, his hands everywhere, touching her everywhere, _needing_ to touch her… but the space was too small - it was utilitarian, built for getting clean and that was it.

It didn’t stop them.

Oliver set her down, wrapping his arm around her waist as he yanked the curtain open, pulling her out with him. He grabbed one of the towels sitting on the rack and snapped it open, spreading it over the counter before he turned back to her, picking her up like she weighed nothing… and she felt so light, light as feather as he set her down on the counter, sliding her to the edge, his erection swaying between them, pressing between her legs.

His lips covered hers again, crashing into hers so hard it burned. He gripped her hips and she spread her legs… 

Oliver thrusted into her to the hilt. 

Felicity cried out, the sound muffled against his lips, hers echoing his - he was louder. His shout echoed through the bathroom as he clung to her, his fingers digging into her painfully as he pulled out and thrust back home. He towered over her, her strong, beautiful Oliver, giving her everything he had and taking everything she had to give.

It was hard, and fast, and perfect. She held onto him, their lips never parting, breathing each other’s air as he filled her, over and over, using her as leverage to thrust harder and faster, the sound of their wet skin slapping against each other echoing their muted cries. 

Every time he thrust into her, she didn’t just feel him inside her, caressing her from the inside out, but everywhere, along every single nerve, across every inch of her skin and it sent her soaring as she kissed him, cradling him, holding him as he sought salvation in her arms, and she in his.

Her release was on her before she knew what was happening, hot tiny pricks she felt in the soles of her feet, a hot shiver falling down her spine, her fingertips tingling where she held onto him.

He took in every noise she made, and she did the same, his cries growing with each thrust until they didn’t know who ended where, who was touching who, where they were…

All that mattered was them, all that mattered was _reclaiming_ each other.

He slid home, deep inside her, his hand falling down her thigh. He shoved her leg up so he could go _deeper_ and the new angle had him rubbing right against her clit, making Felicity whine his name against his lips… all it took was one stroke, one beautiful, delicate stroke, and Felicity came with a rigid shout, holding onto him with everything she had, fire rocketing through her core as she exploded around him.

Oliver whimpered, gripping her so tightly it hurt as he thrust into her over and over, seeking his own pleasure, his own release, his own ending in her arms…

He came with a loud groan, his lips never leaving hers as he thrust into her as hard as he could, as deep as he could, spilling into her until he had nothing left before he collapsed against her. 

An eternity passed - or maybe it was just a minute, she wasn’t sure - but he eventually let her go to wrap his arms around, pulling her flush against him, keeping her so close there wasn’t room for anything else.

Their breathing was harsh, and her lungs burned, and when his lips moved against hers, softly - so softly it made her chest _ache_ \- she returned it before pulling back, digging her forehead into his cheek.

“Oliver…” she murmured, burrowing closer. “Oliver.”

“I thought… I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice fading. He turned, pushing his face into her wet hair. “God, Felicity…”

“I’m here,” Felicity replied, hugging him tighter. “I’m here, I’m here.”

They were there, together. They could get through anything as long as they were together, as long as they had each other.

 _Anything_.

A long moment passed.

They stayed wrapped around each other, fingers stroking softly here and there, lips brushing against the other, kissing, whispering words of love when a knock sounded at the door.

“I’m all for life-affirming sex, you guys,” Thea said through the door, “But we were already running late twenty minutes ago. How about you hit the fast-forward button, huh?”

Oliver laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest as he pulled back just enough to face the door, still holding her tightly.

“We’re coming.”

“God, I hope not,” Thea said as she moved away from the door.

It was Felicity’s turn to laugh this time.

Oliver turned back to her, and when she saw how much lighter he was - the lines on his face were softer, the stress line between his brows gone, his eyes brighter, his lips pulled up in a smile - she grinned at him, unable to erase it completely, even when he kissed her.

“I love you,” he said, nuzzling his nose against hers.

“I love you,” she whispered. “We better get going before she sends the cavalry.”

He chuckled, nodding, but he didn’t move back or pull out of her. If anything he held her closer, like he wasn’t ready to leave quite yet.

Good, because she wasn’t ready either.

She felt better. She felt… _lighter_. She felt _her_ coming back, and the rush of love for the man in her arms was almost overwhelming because he’d done that for her.

“Can I get a hint about where we’re going?” Oliver asked, smoothing his hand over her drying hair, his thumb caressing her cheek.

“Nope,” she replied, smiling up at him. “It’s a surprise.”

“Mm,” Oliver hummed, kissing her again. “But it means I have to leave here and I don’t want to.” 

“It’ll be worth it,” Felicity said. “I promise.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Tumblr Post
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	5. Higher (we can go until the morning glow)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What I think should have happened at the end of 4x09.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had _weeks_ to write this and nothing happened, until last night when I realized how badly I've been slacking in the ficlet department. Finally finishing this little mini-series before 4x10 tomorrow night! (I'm rusty, I apologize if it's not as great.)

_She said yes._

“We’re here, Mr. Queen.”

The driver’s soft voice came from the front of the limo, slicing through silence in the car - the only other thing that sounded every few minutes was Felicity’s gentle, even breaths where she slept next to him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, the little puffs of air accented every few minutes by a snore that was barely audible, which both made him smile and told him she was dead to the world.

Oliver didn’t have to open his eyes to know where they were; he’d followed the limo’s trajectory from the second he’d closed his eyes, leaning in closer to his girlfriend - no, his _fiancée_ \- wrapping his arm around her legs where she’d pulled them up over his lap.

“Thank you,” Oliver replied, not moving. His cheek rested against the top of her head, his arm banded around her waist, keeping her close, his other hand nestled between hers. He held her left hand, on purpose, so he could run his thumb over the warm metal of her ring - and it was hers now, officially.

She’d said yes.

_“Home?”_

_“Mm… can we just… drive?”_

_“Drive?”_

_“Yeah, you and me, in this big giant limo that’s just for us…”_

_“We can do that.”_

And they had. She’d asked Tim to drive anywhere he wanted just as long as they kept moving, and then she’d not-so-surreptitiously closed the partition, leaving them with the final view of Tim shaking his head in amusement before she’d turned back to him, giving him a kiss. It was a kiss Oliver was fairly certain was supposed to go farther than her little hum when she’d pulled back a moment later, toeing her heels off before swinging her legs up and into his lap. Oliver had opened his arms to her, letting her snuggle into his side, pressing her face into his shoulder, taking a deep breath as she’d settled in…

Two minutes later, she’d been asleep.

Oliver chuckled under his breath at the memory. A few minutes later, he’d opened the partition just enough to ask Tim to finish whatever route he’d chosen and then take them home. 

Felicity hadn’t stirred, and he’d let himself sink deeper into the seat, giving her a more comfortable place to lay before he’d told Tim to take his time. Oliver had nestled a little closer to his fiancée as Tim had replied with a, “Yes, sir,” turning to press a kiss to her forehead. 

She’d sighed, smiling, pressing herself closer to him, even in her sleep.

It’d been a long day, a very, _very_ long day… a day he only wanted to remember for what had happened an hour ago.

He’d asked her to marry him.

And she’d said yes.

_She said yes_.

There was so much to do, so much to think about and consider and plan and worry about and figure out… but that was for later, because all that mattered was that he’d asked Felicity to marry him, and she’d said yes. She was going to be his wife, and he honestly couldn’t believe how lucky he was. 

How many times had he thought about asking her? _Hundreds_. He’d thought about it while he made them breakfast, or when she wandered around in one heel looking for its partner, or when they laid in bed together, just existing, or when she came home with teetering boxes of Thai, or when he heard her voice on the other end of the comm when he was out with the team, her commentary so perfect and so _Felicity_ that he couldn’t help but smile even though he was supposed to be looking intimidating… 

He’d almost lost her earlier, he’d almost lost _everything_ earlier when Dahrk had taken her and Thea and Diggle… he’d never felt that level of desperation and rage; it’d been a living thing inside him as he’d searched as many buildings as he could, every single place he could think of where Darhk could be; as he’d broken bones and beaten the Ghosts until they could barely move, tossing some of them off the roof of buildings, knowing it was a big enough drop that they’d be crushed the second they hit the ground; as he’d rammed his fist into a wall when he hadn’t been quick enough to stop the Ghost from killing himself before picking the body up and throwing it against the same wall, hearing the satisfying crack of something breaking.

In the quiet moments when he’d _had_ to rest, when Laurel had made him sit down for five minutes - _“Just five minutes, Ollie, you’re no good to any of them dead…”_ \- his thoughts had raced ahead of him: this was exactly why he’d waited, why he’d wanted to see what their lives would become, if he could protect her while still being with her, if they could make it work… 

He’d wondered what he would do when he found her - it hadn’t even been a question, he _was_ going to find her, there was no other option… he honestly hadn’t known if he would tell her they couldn’t do this, or if he’d cling to her even more.

He’d gotten his answer the second he’d seen her, when he’d swept her off her feet in that cell.

He wouldn’t let her go, not ever, not for anything. It’d only been reinforced when Darhk had shoved her into the gas chamber, when he’d almost lost her again, and firmly put in place when they got back to the lair, when he’d followed her into the bathroom, not able to _say_ the words just yet, but still needing to show her…

She was there, and he was there, and they were okay.

The would always be okay, because there was no other option.

As the limo pulled to a stop outside their loft, Oliver finally opened his eyes, lifting his head just enough to see the glowing entrance to their building through the tinted window.

_Home_.

Felicity didn’t budge.

With a content smile, Oliver reached over to open the door but Tim was already there, opening it for him. 

Oliver shot him a grateful grin and a quiet, “Thanks,” before he pulled his hand out of hers and slid his arm under her legs, his fingers drifting over the soft skin of her thigh. He lifted her into his arms and gingerly climbed out of the car, ignoring the pulls on his abused muscles and the aches in his shoulders and arms from the violence of the last days - in that moment, they didn’t exist, that world didn’t exist - taking his time to not wake her.

But the second the cool air of the night hit her, Felicity inhaled sharply, waking a little. 

Oliver readjusted her, cuddling her closer as she shifted, curling into him.

“Can you grab her shoes?” Oliver asked and Tim ducked in, grabbing them, hooking them on Oliver’s outstretched fingers. “Thank you, Tim.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Queen. Can I get the door for you?”

“That’d be great, thank you.”

Tim darted up the stairs and Oliver was quick to follow, just as Felicity shifted in his arms again with a mumbled, “Are we home?”

“Hey,” Oliver whispered, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Go back to sleep.” Tim entered the code for the main entrance. Once it clicked open, he held the door for them. “Thanks, Tim.”

“Have a good night, sir.”

“You too,” Oliver replied, ducking into the building, listening to the door close behind him with a quiet snick.

“Wait, where’s Tim going?” Felicity asked, lifting her head as Oliver made his way to the elevators. “We’re supposed to drive to the stars.”

Oliver smiled. “The stars, huh?”

“Not the stars…” she said, shaking her head. 

Her brow furrowed as she tried to blink herself awake, but it wasn’t working, and Oliver couldn’t blame her. He’d barely slept the last few days, and he knew she wasn’t much better; it didn’t help that they’d gone straight from the lair to the rally, which had been amazing - more than amazing, because _she’d said yes_ \- but now they needed a few hours to rest. 

Felicity sighed, scrunching her nose. “Horizon. I meant horizon.”

“We’re supposed to go to the horizon?”

“Like sailing, boat sailing,” Felicity continued just as the elevator dinged its arrival. Oliver stepped on. “Ship sailing… take me to that horizon, yo ho.”

She was so goddamn cute, it made his chest hurt.

“Later,” Oliver whispered, lifting her a little higher to kiss her forehead. 

She hummed, her fingers moving across his chest until she gripped the lapels of his jacket. He definitely did not miss the way the lights overhead caught the diamond on her finger, the way they shined on the band, highlighting it, drawing his eye. 

“We’ll get our horizon, Felicity, I promise.” 

She made a happy little noise. 

“Mm. I was goi…” she started, but a yawn interrupted her, the kind of yawn that made her entire body shake. “I was going to seduce you.”

“Oh?”

Felicity nodded. “In the limo. That’s why I closed the partition.”

Oliver laughed silently, holding her closer, the doors opening on their floor. “I figured.”

“Some celebration, huh?” she continued, her words slurring together as she slipped back into sleep’s warm embrace. “You finally asked me to marry you and I fall asleep.”

“It’s perfect,” Oliver whispered. “Just like you.”

“Mm, you’re perfect,” Felicity replied and then she grew heavier as she succumbed to her body’s need for rest… just as they reached the door to the loft. 

“Felicity?”

“Hmm?”

“I need you to unlock the door.”

“Mm.”

She didn’t move for a second and Oliver almost let her fall back asleep, not caring that it meant he’d be stuck standing in the hallway, holding her until his body gave out, but he wanted her in bed. He wanted her comfortable, surrounded by her favorite pillow and him, curled up together as they fell asleep.

Oliver pressed his lips to the top of her head, causing her to stir. As she lifted her head, he kept his lips pressed against her, following a gentle path down to her temple, dropping a quick kiss against the top of her ear before saying, “The key’s in my inside pocket.”

Felicity’s face scrunched up again, her glasses slipping down her nose before she lifted her hand - her _left_ hand, the light still catching on her ring so perfectly he felt like he was flying - before it disappeared underneath the lapel.

“The other side,” Oliver said with a little smile and she made another noise, this one more of a grunt, before she switched sides, her lithe fingers dancing along the hard planes of his chest. He chuckled when she took her time, humming a little as she made sure she checked _everywhere_ for his pocket… before she found it. She reached in and grabbed the key.

Without preamble, she opened her eyes and Oliver leaned over just enough for her to fit the key into the lock. With a flip of her wrist, it was open and he stepped in, kicking it shut behind him. He didn’t waste a second, heading straight for the stairs, Felicity settling in against him again. He carried her up, letting her shoes drop on the floor when they reached their bedroom before moving for the bed, setting her down gently.

Felicity sighed, settling into the mattress, her eyes still closed. Oliver watched her hand move up lazily to the buttons on her jacket but he leaned over, stopping her.

He let his hand linger on her left hand, feeling the ring on her finger, as he said, “I’ll do it.”

“You don’t have to,” she whispered, her eyes opening sleepily. 

The moon was nearly full outside, and it was shining directly in on them, so he saw her _perfectly_. She was practically angelic. 

She gave him a lazy smile, one so full of contentment it made his chest feel almost too full.

“I want to,” he replied. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know you will,” Felicity said, her smile growing - this time with _certainty_ , because she _knew_ he would take care of her, no matter what, whether it was undressing her before bed or finding her because she’d been kidnapped by a megalomaniac, he’d do everything in his power for her. Her faith in him was unwavering, it had been since the beginning, and now, even in the face of everything they’d been through, through all the good and the bad - and there’d been so much bad - she was still there, with him, trusting him with her heart, her future, her life.

It was a heady thought, that bone-deep knowledge that no matter what, they would be there for each other - _no matter what_ \- and it left him breathless.

Oliver stood up, unbuttoning his jacket, and she watched him closely, despite her exhaustion. He let it fall on the floor, followed quickly by his tie. She reached up, waking a bit more, starting to work on the buttons of her coat but Oliver leaned over, brushing her fingers away and she let him.

“You proposed tonight,” she said, the words so soft and quiet in the large room

Oliver smiled, looking up at her. “And you said yes.”

Felicity grinned and she bit her lip, nodding. “Yes, I did.” The pure happiness on her face was too much to ignore. Oliver abandoned her jacket to crawl up her body, dropping a soft kiss on her lips. Her smile didn’t diminish as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in closer. “I will always say yes.”

He knew she would, and it was the best gift anyone had ever given him. 

“I love you,” she said, her lips moving against his.

“I love you,” he breathed, kissing her again. Felicity moaned softly, arching up into him, and Oliver could feel her waking up underneath him as she held him tighter, angling her head to deepen the kiss, opening herself for him, to him, letting him in in more ways than one… and he took it, just as much as he gave her everything he was.

Because it was already hers, _he_ was already hers; he’d been hers for so long he barely remembered what it was like without her.

And now she wore his ring.

With a quiet whine, Oliver kissed her harder and she responded just as readily, lifting her leg to wrap around his, pulling him in closer. He needed to feel her, more of her, all of her. 

It wasn’t the same as earlier in the bathroom, it wasn’t the quiet desperation that’d been running between them after escaping Darhk, after he’d pulled her out of that gas chamber; it was something else, something more grounded - they were there, and they were there to stay. 

This was _more_ , in a way he couldn’t describe, and he needed more, right now, and as her movements grew more frantic, he knew she felt it too.

Felicity pulled away with a harried, “Oliver,” but he was already ahead of her. He pushed himself up, his fingers finding the buttons of her jacket, undoing them with a swiftness he hadn’t felt a few minutes ago. Felicity watched him and just as he pulled her jacket open, she pushed herself up, shrugging it off, her hands flying to his pants where he stood before her. She had them open before he could blink and she pushed them down, pulling his shirt out of the way as his fingers found the tie in her hair, tugging it out, letting her soft waves loose around her shoulders.

His hands fell to her shoulders, his fingers following the lines of her dress down her back until he found the zipper and he tugged on it, leaning over her to push it all the way down. His fingers slipped in, dragging down her naked spine - she wasn’t wearing a bra, she hadn’t had a spare one at the lair. She shivered at his touch, and he felt her grip on his pants tightening in response, a rush of goosebumps erupting across the surface of her skin as he leaned over her, pushing both hands inside her dress, spanning the length of her back.

Felicity let out a gentle whimper before she sat back, forcing him to move, but just enough for her to cup his face and pull his lips back down to hers. 

Oliver’s breath hitched, and he slid his hands up into her hair, his fingers tangling in the long tresses, holding her lightly, angling her so he could go deeper. They kissed, nipping and chasing each other, tasting the remnants of toothpaste and the champagne that had been passed around at the rally. 

Felicity leaned back, urging him back with her and he followed without hesitation, their lips never parting as she spread her legs for him. 

Oliver settled over her, arching his back, pressing the growing hardness in his pants to her center. She gasped, kissing him with more urgency, wrapping her legs around him as much as her dress would allow.

He needed to feel more, he needed to feel _her_ , her naked skin against his, wrapping around him, no barriers…

Earlier it had been about affirmation, a reaction to almost losing each other _again_ , confirmation that they’d _survived_ and they would continue to survive - now, it was just them, with each other. They weren’t reacting to outside forces, or dancing against the edges of life for the hundredth time.

This was them, just like it’d only been them when he’d asked her to marry him… when she’d said yes.

_She said yes._

“Clothes,” Felicity whispered, the word muffled against his lips. She raked her nails over his shoulders up to the collar of his shirt where she pushed them in. She sighed at the heat coming off him - she loved how warm he was, her personal heater, and it reminded him of their summer together when it’d become too much one night leading to him tickling her into submission because she wouldn’t lay with him. “Oliver, too many clothes.”

“I know,” he replied, but he didn’t move. He kept kissing her, not wanting to stop, never wanting to stop. He pushed his fingers further into her hair, making her mewl, her hips surging up to meet his, and it was his turn to gasp. “Felicity…”

“Oliver, if you don’t take this shirt off right now I’m going to rip it,” she whispered and he chuckled, unable to help himself at the grave tone in her voice. “And that’d be bad because it’s a perfectly good shirt and we don’t waste perfectly good shirts…”

“No,” he agreed, nodding, their noses brushing against each other. He took a deep breath, using the moment to press the full length of his body against hers. She shuddered underneath him, her nails digging into his neck. “We don’t.”

“Please… Oliver…”

Oliver sat up, propping himself up on his knees, his fingers slipping into the loose folds of her dress. Felicity bit her lip, watching him through hooded eyes as he tugged it down, her breathing growing heavier as he slowly revealed her breasts, the material catching on her hard nipples. She arched her back, her hands coming up to help push the dress down but Oliver stopped her when the ring caught his eye, shining in the moonlight.

He suddenly needed to see her wearing nothing but that ring.

Oliver yanked her dress off, and Felicity lifted her hips to help. He dropped it on the floor, his hands already grabbing her panties, tugging them down, leaving her naked before him.

Felicity leaned up, her hands moving to his shirt but Oliver stopped her with a barely audible, “Wait,” before he pressed her back down.

“What?” she asked with a tiny smile, letting him move her until she was supine again. He didn’t answer and her smile grew. “Oliver?”

“You’re beautiful,” Oliver whispered, leaning over her. He was close enough to see the light flush across her chest at his words, making her skin rosy under the bright moonlight. He propped his hand next to her head and pressed his other to her stomach, sliding it up to cover one of her gorgeous breasts. “You’re so beautiful, Felicity.”

“So are you,” she responded just as quietly, covering his hand with hers - her left hand - as her other cupped his face. “C’mere.”

He shook his head. “I just want…” 

Oliver only had eyes for her ring - she was wearing his ring, she was going to _marry him_ \- and he twisted his hand to capture it, pulling her hand up to his lips. His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed it, kissed each finger before dropping a light one on the band. 

“We’re getting married,” he whispered, awe lacing every syllable.

“Yes,” Felicity said, smiling softly. He opened his eyes to look down at her. “We are. It’s a good thing I kinda like you then.”

Oliver laughed, pressing her palm to his cheek as he shook his head, smiling down at her - at the love of his life, the woman he was going to spend the rest of that life with, his _fiancée_ … the woman who was going to be his wife.

_She said yes_.

“Yes,” he said, turning to kiss her palm. “It’s very good.” He kissed his way down her arm, murmuring, “Very, very good,” before he slid off the bed, kneeling before her on the bed. 

Oliver leaned over her again, his lips finding the center of her stomach, kissing his way down, hovering where he had earlier in the lair, when the only thing he’d been able to think about was _reclaiming_ her, taking her back from the darkness they’d touched that day…

The joy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of them, and when he looked up at her, he found her watching him with a smile, a smile that matched his.

_Happy_.

He was happy.

_They_ were happy.

Oliver pressed his lips to her stomach, following the gentle slopes with his tongue as he made his way down, delighting in the tiny pleasurable noises she made as she arched into his touch. He dragged his hands down her sides, over her hips to her thighs until he reached her knees. She pulled her legs up, spreading herself for him. 

He could smell her arousal, and he inhaled deeply, kissing the inside of her thigh, his tongue darting out, tasting the hints of her wetness already on her skin.

She whispered his name, sounding perfectly breathless, making his body tighten with his own need as she scraped her nails across his scalp, one hand gripping his hair in a tight fist where he hovered over her sex, his nose brushing over her. She keened, pressing herself closer and Oliver slowly pressed his tongue against her, sliding his hands up and over her stomach. 

“Oh god,” she gasped, sliding her other hand - her left hand - over his, tangling their fingers together, her ring pressing against him. He flattened his tongue and licked up over her wet slit, earning himself a sharp yelp as he tasted her, rocking his head when he reached her clit, making her jerk against him. “Oooh god… Oliver…”

Oliver built her pleasure, taking his time, savoring the cries that fell from her lips as they grew louder, gripping her tightly when she clung to his hand, her other pressing his face deeper between her legs, her hips arching up to meet him. He felt her wetness growing, her entrance clenching and he slid away from her clit, moving down until he could press his tongue as deep as he could inside her. 

She shouted, clutching him closer, whimpering his name over and over between gasps as she rode his face, seeking her pleasure. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop…”

Her thighs started to quiver, her stomach muscles clenching under his hands, her voice rising, taking his own arousal with her, his hard cock pressing against the tight seam of his pants.

“Oh god… oh… Oliv… aahh…!”

She was so beautiful, so unaware of herself, giving everything she had to this moment, giving him everything.

Oliver’s tongue found her clit again and the second he flicked it over the swollen pearl, Felicity came with a hoarse shout, her hips surging up, pressing herself as close as she could, coming apart under his touch. He kept his mouth on her, earning him a second wave with an even louder cry falling from deep in her chest as he pushed her higher, making her scramble to hold onto the sheets, her arousal drenching his face until she had nothing left, until she collapsed back onto the bed.

He pulled back, just enough to glance up at her, past her heaving breasts - her face glowed under the moonlight, her wet lips parted in rapid gasps for air, her hands fluttering aimlessly around her as if she was trying to find her equilibrium, accenting the fact that the only thing she wore were her glasses and his ring. She was so completely unaware of his perusal it was intoxicating. 

Oliver kissed her inner thigh again, her muscles still shaking from the aftershocks, and without warning kissed her wet sex.

“No, ooh, no, no, too much, too much,” she whimpered, pushing him away.

Oliver grinned with a whispered, “Sorry,” and she huffed out a little sound, knowing he was anything but as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off followed by his undershirt and then his shoes, his eyes never leaving her. After a long second, she opened her eyes, watching him, licking her lips as her eyes followed his movements.

The pull to her was undeniable. 

Everything in him told him to hurry, to rip everything off if he had to, anything to get back to her.

He yanked his socks off, watching her push herself up onto her elbows, her hair gorgeously tousled as he pulled his pants down, followed by his boxers. Oliver didn’t miss the way her eyes fixed on his hard member where it swayed between them.

“C’mere,” she said in a husky voice, and his cock swelled at the promise in that simple word.

They reached for each other at the same time, Felicity lifting her hand - her left hand - towards him, and they tangled their fingers together as he crawled back onto the bed, his lips instantly finding hers.

Oliver moved to blanket her again, his hand already sliding up her thigh, pressing her legs open, but before he could, Felicity sat up and twisted, pulling on his arm so he fell on the bed with a quiet, “Oof,” her hands already pushing him down so she could straddle him. She hummed under her breath, licking her lips, flipping her hair to the side, revealing the long, thin column of her neck, the moonlight catching on her earrings as she reached between them, her little fingers wrapping around his aching cock.

When she squeezed him, running her hand up his length, his eyes fluttered shut, his back arching to thrust into her touch.

“Oh… god,” Oliver gasped as his hands found her hips, his fingers digging in. He forced himself to open his eyes, to watch her, and he groaned loudly when he saw her eyes already on him, her lids hooded, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. She was so damn _beautiful_ … 

With a desperate, “Felicity,” Oliver reached up and cupped her face, pulling her down to him.

Their lips crashed together with a passion that seared him from the inside out and he wanted _more_. 

They devoured each other, soft moans and eager whimpers filling the room as they kissed, as Felicity gripped him tightly, as she lifted her hips and pressed the head of his cock to her entrance… 

She thrust down, taking him deep inside her in one movement.

“Aah!” Oliver cried, holding her closely as he arched his back, pressing himself _deeper_ , drinking in her quiet whine as he gasped, “God, Felicity,” before kissing her again, sucking her lip between his, wrapping his arms around her. She lifted her hips and thrust back down, _gently_ , taking her time, and Oliver slid his hand down her back, making her muscles jump with awareness before he pressed his hand over her ass, cocooning her in his embrace, pushing her down with more force as she thrust against him.

They moved against each other, soft, easy thrusts that slowly built their pleasure. 

When they need for air became too much, Felicity pulled back, panting his name before pressing her lips to his nose and then his cheek, his brow, his forehead, whispering, “I love you,” between each one. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he whispered, holding her tighter. “I love you.”

They made love to each other, savoring the moment, savoring every _second_ , celebrating life just as much as they were declaring that simple fact: they were alive, and they were together, and it was _everything_.

The familiar burn at his center slowly spread, and Oliver moaned her name, his hips moving with more urgency as he felt the heat starting to gather at the base of his spine, growing hotter and hotter, so close…

Oliver pressed his forehead to hers, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to temper his thrusts but it was too much, it felt too good, _she_ felt too good, and he…

“Felicity, I can’t… I can’t…”

“Come, Oliver,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth, cupping his face as she sped up, making him cry out. “Come for me, come inside me, Oliver, come for me…”

“Felicity… Felici… oh… god!”

Oliver dug his fingers into her, pushing her down harder, her hips moving faster, the bed groaning underneath them as he thrust up, his pleasure _burning_ him from the inside out, the need to empty himself inside her, claim her as his in the most primordial way he could overtaking him…

“Oliver…!”

He came with a heavy shout, the sound echoing through the room as he emptied himself inside her, her slick walls clenching around him tightly when he pulled her down for a final thrust, holding her close. Her hips worked against him, rotating, rubbing herself… her clit slid right across his pubic bone, over and over, her tiny movements sending him higher, making him cry out again as she suddenly stiffened… 

Felicity followed him into oblivion a quick second later, the orgasm ripping through her, her entire body undulating against his as she cried out his name, over and over, clinging to him.

It was several minutes before either of them could move, and several more after that before they finally found the energy to do anything about the fact they were practically hanging off the edge of the bed. 

When he slid out of her, they both groaned at the loss, Felicity’s whimper muffled where her face was pressed into his shoulder. Oliver kissed her head, keeping her close as he sat up, cradling her in his lap.

“Hold on,” he whispered and then he stood, earning a startled sound from his fiancée as he spun, carrying her to the head of the bed. He didn’t bother with the comforter, not yet, but instead laid her down, following her, both of them ignoring the remnant smears of their lovemaking as they crawled into bed. 

Oliver grabbed the throw that rested at the foot of the bed and opened it, covering them both before they wrapped themselves around each other.

Silence reigned, neither of them speaking.

They didn’t need to.

It was just them.

And it was perfect.

After a long second, Felicity shifted, and he could hear the smile in her words.

“I’m gonna be your wife.” 

Oliver grinned, holding her tighter. “I’m gonna be your husband.”

“I can’t wait,” she replied before kissing him. 

They fell asleep, and slept well past the sunrise the next morning, until Oliver woke her with his fingers between her legs. 

Her happy giggle echoed his blissful chuckle as they woke up in the best way possible.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	6. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after Felicity was shot, based on [the storyboards released by Guggenheim](https://twitter.com/mguggenheim/status/722434290869346304).

There’s blood. It’s  _everywhere,_ staining everything.

She’s so heavy, and… _cold_.

“No,” he whispers. He’s numb; he barely feels the word slipping past his lips, the words that’s _screaming_ over and over in his head. Not like this, not like this. Not when they were getting everything, not when everything was _perfect_. Not like this.

His hands are sticky and wet, quickly cooling in the chilly night air.

The red’s ruined her pink coat, and he feels it leaking down, covering his legs, pooling beneath him.

There’s so much blood.

(No.)

She’s not opening her eyes.

(Not like this.)

Oliver stares are her. He shakes his head, his throat closing up, shock freezing his lungs as he waits for her to open her eyes, to turn her head to him, to smile, to tell him everything is going to be okay.

But she doesn’t.

(Felicity…)

He touches her neck, leaving a red smear on her ashy skin.

She’s not moving.

(Please…)

Oliver looks up, around, but there’s no one. It’s just them.

It’s just him.

(No.)

He stares at her, waiting…

(Please.)

“Stay with me.”

_(Don’t leave me.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/143063915494/stay-with-me-olicity-4x09)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


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